Think being married to a man is hard? One writer who's done both says: 'Well try waking up next to a woman!'

When straight women fantasise about what it would be like to jump the fence and go gay, I am always highly amused.

Most women seem to be under the impression that if only they could find it within themselves to desire another woman instead of a man, all their relationship problems would be instantly solved.

The roll call of crimes committed by husbands is well-rehearsed by women; they don’t listen, they don’t empathise, all they want is sex. They don’t know how to hold a proper conversation about one’s inner life, they think there is a pants fairy who picks up after them, and on and on and on.

Experience: Jackie Clune is a self-described 'hasbian' or former lesbian

Life with a woman, on the other hand, is assumed to be one long sisterly cuddle filled with hours of deep emotional bonding and bicker-free domestic bliss.

Actress Angela Lansbury joined the fray this week, arguing that some women become so exasperated with men they turn to other women instead.

'Many women have given up', the 87-year-old actress says. 'In many cases I think women prefer to have a relationship with a woman.'

As a 'hasbian' (that’s a 'has-been lesbian'), I like to think I have special insight into this most incendiary issue.

I was straight until I was 22, then lesbian for 12 years until I was 34, at which point I became straight again. At 47, I have been married for five years to a man I have been with for 11 years.

While it’s true that many lesbian relationships are joyful and harmonious unions built on profound female understanding, it’s reductive to suggest that all gay relationships are the same, and therefore offer a paradigm of how things should be.

I’ve been around the sapphic block a few times and my relationships were often lovely. But were they uncomplicated, stress-free and totally fulfilling? No way!

Try waking up with another woman who is also hormonal and grumpy then finding she has stolen your last clean bra and there’s no conditioner left for your hair. Being with a woman can be just as frustrating — or dull — as being with a man, just in different ways.

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The problem with relationships with two women is that the similarities which seem so appealing at first are what tend to eventually undo you as a couple.

My first-ever relationship started when I was 17 and was with a lovely boy. He was handsome, clever, kind and sweet. But my burgeoning feminism and my intense relationships with female friends led me to believe that the nagging feeling I had that he didn’t really 'get' me was something I should listen to.

I slowly came round to the idea that if I wanted personal fulfilment from my relationship — if I wanted to feel really understood — I would have to dance at the other end of the ballroom.

Initially, my hopes of being met fully on an emotional level were fulfilled; my girlfriends were on my wavelength and they knew what it meant when I felt we needed to talk (I was feeling needy or insecure or just wanted to be close).

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In the past such a need would have been met with mute confusion from boyfriends. 'Talk? What about?'

But my lesbian relationships followed the same path. We would meet, quickly move in together (the old lesbian joke holds true: 'What do lesbians bring on the second date?' 'Their furniture'), start wearing the same clothes and listening to the same music, going out with the same friends and reading the same books.

Fairly soon we were close in every way apart from on an intimate level — somehow all that sameness can be a passion-killer.

If it is true that women’s libidos are not as lively as men’s and that our desire wanes with age, the average long-standing lesbian couple probably have the same mating habits as pandas.

But so what? Sex is less of a motivating force for women generally, and maybe this is why older women sometimes fantasise about life without men — about being free of the demands of the ageing male sex drive. Imagine how much else you could get done without all that sexual bother?

I’m reminded of the Victoria Wood sketch where two middle-aged women are chatting over their typewriters at work. One says: 'Our next-doors had sex again last night — I mean, I like a joke, but that’s twice this month!'

There were many great things about being a lesbian, and ultimately it was me that failed at it rather than it failing me. But the pluses of living with a man are huge, and I now relish the otherness of men.

I love that I have my close female friends for laughs, talks, drinks and secrets, and my husband for the more intimate stuff. Our marriage is very strong and very happy, mostly because neither of us believes it is the be-all and end-all of our lives.

Men can be insensitive, messy, sexually demanding and crass, but at least you don’t have to share your knicker drawer and talk about your feelings with them every five minutes.

There’s none of that emotional game-playing you can get with women. If there’s a protracted silence and you ask a man 'What are you thinking?', he will normally reply: ‘Nothing’ and he’ll be telling the truth.

You don’t have to enter into a mind-bending discussion about what so-and-so meant by such-and-such a remark, or why you failed to notice that your partner had bought your favourite houmous.

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It frees up so much time. Since being married to a man I’ve written two books, learned the piano and ukulele, travelled the world on tour, taken up running, mastered knitting patterns, helped out at the school and started speaking French, at the same time as working constantly as an actress and jointly raising four children — a nine-year-old daughter and seven-year-old triplets.

Now I know there are many high-achieving lesbians out there — my current girl crush, Claire Balding, is no slouch — but they must have very understanding wives because it’s just not possible to spend a lesbian amount of time on your relationship and still manage to have a life outside it.

I understand why this intensity happens. It’s not always easy being in a same-sex relationship in a largely homophobic world, so the impulse to turn inwards to your partner and your close community is only natural. But it can be stifling.

How I rejoiced when, after going back to men, I discovered what sulky babies they can be, providing me with carte blanche to ignore them and get on with things until they are over themselves — and with no guilt because they were behaving stupidly and deserved to be ignored.

Maybe I was just a rubbish lesbian because I’m emotionally lazy and prefer to be in control rather than equal. Or I just want an old-fashioned, businesslike partnership where you’re not expected to collapse all your desires and needs in on each other.

Maybe I like women too much to inflict the boring, domesticated, petty side of myself on them.

Angela Lansbury is wrong to demote women to the role of late-life cosy platonic partners. My advice?

Keep a man for the useful things — plumbing, lifting heavy objects and sex when you’re both in the mood — and save women for all the fun bits — laughing, drinking and putting the world to rights.

You can’t do that with someone who helps you put the bins out, be they male or female.